


My body still both light and heavy with you

by skullage



Category: Block B
Genre: Alternate Universe, Immortality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullage/pseuds/skullage
Summary: The years went by so slow before he met the five of them, but once he did he finally became glad for his immortality, seeing life not as something to endure but as something to live.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for Anne

The storm lashes against the windows of Jiho’s apartment, a vicious thing that wanted Yukwon dead as soon as he stepped out of his car and into it, which Jiho responds with, “We’re _immortal_ , Kwonnie. We can’t die,” when Yukwon hyperbolizes. He places three bottles of alcohol -- one vodka, one bourbon, one absinthe -- on the counter and immediately drops into Jiho’s ridiculous wicker chair that sits in the centre of his living room among the couches. 

“All these years, and not one of us has figured out how to control the weather.”

Kyung, who’s slouching on a leather bean bag in the corner, huffs out a laugh. “We’re not magic, Yukwon.”

Yukwon rolls his eyes. “I realise that.”

“Aren’t we magic, though?” Taeil asks from his place at the end of Jiho’s couch. It’s one of the rare days when he’s just wearing a tank top and shorts, despite the way the wind and rain rage. Jiho’s cranked the heat right up and even Yukwon can feel it, even though he runs colder than everyone else. “We haven’t died yet, and we probably should have.” 

“I’m not planning to die any time soon,” Kyung says. 

Jaehyo, who’s setting up a game of Shogi on Jiho’s table, snorts. “Kyung thinks he’s magic. Remember that time those villagers in Nanping tried to use Taeil as an ox, and then Kyung tried to use magic to turn him into one?”

Taeil and Yukwon burst out laughing and Kyung gives Taeil a sheepish smile. “To be fair--”

“Nope,” Taeil says through his laughter. “You couldn’t talk your way out of that one four hundred years ago, and you still can’t.”

Jihoon comes into the living room in just his underwear, scratching idly at his belly, and immediately wanders over to Taeil. Yukwon watches him sidle up next to Taeil on the couch, rubbing his back while Taeil pretends not to like it. It’s a game they’ve been playing for as long as Yukwon’s known them, which hasn’t been very long, a hundred years at most. He’s not counting. The years went by so slow before he met the five of them, but once he did he finally became glad for his immortality, seeing life not as something to endure but as something to live. Even if it’s not, at least they can endure with him. 

Jiho comes into the living room to watch whatever’s playing on the television as Jaehyo reaches over and grabs Yukwon’s foot. “Want to play?”

Yukwon shrugs and sits opposite him. They play in silence for a while, with additional commentary from Kyung about how good Korean culture was in the Joseon dynasty. 

“Remember when we were in Paris--” Kyung starts, before Jaehyo interrupts with, “The city of love.”

“The city of dogshit,” Taeil says.

“And you seduced that heiress,” Kyung directs this to Jiho, whose poker face gives nothing away.

“Liliane,” Jihoon says, and Kyung nods.

“Who liked to put makeup on her dogs?”

Yukwon glances up from the game in front of him. “She what.”

“I didn’t know it before I slept with her,” Jiho says, somewhat apologetically.

“Bullshit,” Taeil says, “their cheeks were red and pampered when you walked into her manor.”

“I wasn’t looking at the dogs that closely!” 

Jaehyo laughs, but when he turns back to the game his face falls. It’s not from concentration. He looks like he’s somewhere else in his mind.

“I miss Paris,” Jihoon says with a wistful tone. 

“I miss George,” Jaehyo says, only loud enough that Kyung picks up on it.

“How can you miss her? You had one night together two hundred years ago and you didn’t speak French at the time. The sex couldn’t have been that good that you’re still thinking about her.”

Jaehyo doesn’t respond and his expression clouds over. He makes a move on the board as if he’s concentrating, but Yukwon knows him better by now. 

“Who’s George?” Yukwon asks. They have so much history between them, sometimes he feels like an outsider.

Jaehyo looks like he’s about to shrug him off before he changes his mind. “A rebel. A renegade. Probably the love of my life. I’ll lend you her novels sometime.”

“She must have been special for you to remember after only one night.”

Jaehyo’s expression smooths out and the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “Kyung’s understating it. I stayed with her for about two weeks after we met, listening to her read her stories, travelling to bars with her when she dressed in men’s clothing. She glued hair on her face to fit in. She was something else.”

It strikes a chord with Yukwon, Jaehyo talking so openly about something so personal, and it brings back memories. A man Yukwon travelled with for six months, or a year, or maybe two years? He remembers the way the man smelled, not his name or where he was born, but his face and the sandalwood tang to his perfume, the way he would fold his arms around Yukwon and bury his face in Yukwon’s hair like that was the only place he wanted to be. 

The storms seems to have died out completely and Jiho suggests making dinner when Kyung, who’s standing at the window, interrupts him.

“There’s a guy down there staring at me.”

They all turn to look at him at the same time.

“He’s looking at how ugly you are,” Taeil says, and Kyung replies, “He can probably smell your feet from down there.”

Yukwon gets a feeling in his stomach as if a thread is attached to his belly button and pulling him up, away from the game, away from Jaehyo, towards the window. When he looks at him it’s like the breath is pushed from his lungs, and Yukwon can see him smile from five floors up, can feel it in his gut. The man walks across the puddles in the street to the entrance of the building. A minute later Jiho’s buzzer sounds and the rest of them freeze, all except for Yukwon who walks over in a daze to answer it. 

“Apartment 515,” he says, and it comes out rushed and distorted because he still feels breathless. The minutes it takes the man to climb the elevator to their floor are the longest of Yukwon’s life and the knock that comes feels like a bell sounding at a pivotal moment in his life. 

When he opens the door, though, the anxiety he felt disappears. The man is drenched from the storm, his hair plastered to his head and his clothes shades darker, but he smiles, his cheeks rosy from the warmth of the building’s heaters. Yukwon reaches out to him, but then stops himself.

“Can I come in?” the man says.

Yukwon steps aside as the man steps in, and everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath like Yukwon is, watching them.

He steps forward until he’s in the living room, and all eyes are on him. 

“Uh,” Jiho says, looking from Yukwon’s stunned face to the other man’s calm one. “Who are you?”

“Minhyuk,” the man says. He turns back to Yukwon, and Yukwon sees something in his eyes that makes him feel like the last few centuries of his life have finally slot into place. “My name is Minhyuk.”

**Author's Note:**

> still farming my tweets over at [twitter dot com](twitter.com/skvllage)


End file.
